


Pipe Down

by joycecarolnotes



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M, Manipulation, Richard is not nice in this, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-10 18:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12305280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joycecarolnotes/pseuds/joycecarolnotes
Summary: They can make it into a game, Richard offers. For each unsavory act he supports, each immoral choice he condones with his silence, Jared will be suitably rewarded.





	Pipe Down

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is... something! Please be aware it's rather dark. 
> 
> Intro ripped from an older thing I wrote [on my tumblr](http://joycecarolnotes.tumblr.com), in case it looks familiar to anyone who bothers to read my stuff that closely, though it's beyond me why anyone would do a thing like that!

He's puzzled through it again and again, and still hasn't worked out an answer. How to say "you're different" or at least "Richard, I thought you _would_ be different" without having to explain the way things have been in the past. How to say "I didn't want to do something like that again" without wading back into the depths where he'd been in the first place.

The fake users, Richard knows about. But what of all the times before that one? The secrets Richard doesn't know yet. The way Jared's own morality expands and contracts to match his surroundings. The parts of himself he thought he'd left behind when he left Hooli, and before that, and before that, and before that.

 _Malleability_ , he thinks, recalled from an old science textbook. _The ability of a substance to deform under stress_.

The truth is Jared will do - has done - nearly anything for attention. For scraps of affection. For the feeling of being needed, no matter how fleeting a fraud.

He has sung in the street for his supper. He has stolen. Used his body. He has begged. 

Jared wonders, sometimes, if Richard knows this. Richard can turn it on when he wants to. He knows exactly which buttons to push to make Jared feel guilty, and needed, and wanted, the way Jared likes to be told secrets, likes to feel important to someone, that sick and pathetic and pleasurable feeling, twisting him up inside.

_Your faith made all this possible._

_Everybody wins, Jared._

_You still believe that, right?_

He has seen it in others' eyes before: the uncle whose affection turned sinister, the nursing home director, the would-be corporate mentors who always wanted something in return. It is a vicious, blinding-light sort of attention, so strong it could almost be mistaken for love. If he squinted, if he squinted. If he cared little enough about himself to consider it good enough.

"I _kin_ da need you to pipe down and support me on this one," Richard insists, in a high voice, over Jared's best protestations. They are sitting together in the garage, having one of their little private chit-chats. Jared on his cot, Richard in his armchair. One more crisis to get through, Richard promises, and things will go neatly, tidily back to the way they were.

Jared wants to believe it, but he doesn't. Just like with Gavin Belson, he feels doomed to watch his heroes fall.

Richard leans in close, and each inch is both a torture and a reward that Jared aches for. A breath of Richard's woody scent. A glimpse of day old stubble.

This is a dance they've been doing around each other for months now, and Jared doesn't mean to assume or project, would never dare be so conceited - so boastful - so, so, so _presumptuous_ , but sometimes he swears the look in Richard's eyes is one of hunger. Like he'd devour Jared's skin if he could. 

_Need you, need you_. Jared replays the words to himself, so gratefully. Those words: whatever else happens here, he thinks, if this is the end of all they've worked for, at least he'll keep the sound of Richard saying them. He will carry it with him like a parting gift. A small, pitiful consolation prize.

"You never told anyone," Richard says. "Right? I mean. All that stuff that happened when you were a kid. You acted like it was normal. Went along with it. You kept it all - kept it - kept it buried inside?" 

_Uncle Jerry's game_ , thinks Jared. A secret he was almost sickeningly thrilled to share with Richard - intoxicated with the intimacy - and now thinks might've been better kept to himself.

"Well, yes," he begins, "but - " 

"So?" Richard pauses here as if awaiting a response, but Jared isn't sure what he's asking. "So - he - they - someone must have shut you up then." 

There is a glint in Richard's eye that is - Jared's choice of word - _suggestive_. He slides a little closer, almost imperceptibly, leaning forward in his chair. 

"What do I have to do," Richard asks. "I mean - Jared - fuck! All the other guys are in. I asked you - tried to ask you - fucking - _nicely_. What do you want me to do now? I mean - shit - get on my knees and beg?" 

Jared feels his chest go tight. A lump in his throat. He's suffocating, suddenly, in his sweater vest. He swallows hard, and reaches up to tug at his collar. He would never make Richard _beg_ , he thinks. Not ever. Would give him everything he wanted the first moment he had the blessed, miraculous chance. And yet, to hear that offer on Richard's lips is - is - is - well, Jared can hardly bring himself to fathom it. 

"Richard," he pleads, "no."

"But I _need_ you," Richard says, again, insistent, and Jared thinks he could die on the spot. Right here. That he'd be content to spend his last moment on God's Green Earth hearing those words. 

"Tell me what I have to _do_ ," says Richard. 

"I don't - " he starts to protest. 

But the words dry up in Jared's throat. 

"Tell me," Richard demands again, a little petulant. "C'mon." And then suddenly, exasperated, the words explode with violence from his chest: "Jesus fucking christ, Jared, you're so fucked up, everyone can see it. Someone did _something_ to you. Someone got you to - to - to do anything they wanted. Fucking - tell me. How did Gavin do it? How did your uncle do it? What did - fuck! - what did they know that I don't?"

"Um," Jared stalls, feeling impossibly turned on at Richard's words, the raw emotion, at his possessiveness, his aching _need_. He feels impossibly foolish, also. Impossibly embarrassed. Impossibly ashamed. Gosh, he thinks, but when did Richard move closer? And when did one of his hands come to rest on Jared's knee? 

"I need you on my side," says Richard, almost - Jared swallows - goodness, _kittenishly_. "Jared. There must be some way we can, ah, arrange that." 

And his hand is on Jared's thigh. 

This can't be happening. What Richard is implying. If it's what Jared _thinks_ he is implying. If they're finally - finally - going to resolve all these months of febrile, electric, naked tension between them. 

"Richard," he stammers. "Richard - Richard - I - " 

"Do you want me to suck your dick?" 

"P - pardon?" Jared shivers, cold with horror at Richard thinking he needs to put _this_ , of all possible acts, on the table. He stutters, profoundly, over the word.

"Do you want me to let you suck _my_ dick?" 

_Please_ , Jared thinks, like a prayer, so desperate, woozy with longing, so desirous he almost passes out. This is it: the specific thing he's wanted, dreamt of, longed for, and lay in bed at night fantasizing about, the thought of letting Richard _use_ him the most intolerably erotic thing. On his back, on his cot, his own fingers in his mouth a poor man's substitute. _Let me, let me_ , he thinks, _whatever I have to do, please_. 

But he can't bring himself to say it.

They can make it into a game, Richard offers, and though he doesn't spell it out quite so clearly, Jared manages to parse the subtext all the same. For each unsavory act he supports, each immoral choice he condones with his silence, Jared will be suitably rewarded. 

_How very cruel_ , he thinks, but the cruelty, at least, is something he's familiar with. It is a sea Jared knows how to navigate - deftly, proficiently, and with a practiced sort of ease. 

"Let's play," Richard says, close to his ear. "A secret game. _Our_ secret game. If you can keep a secret," and it's exactly the right thing - how it makes Jared feel special - like Richard has seen his heart's deepest desire - unlocked the key to him - like he's a piece of code Richard's spent hours taking apart. 

Richard moves closer, his hand between Jared's legs.

"So this is it, huh," he says, a little proud of himself. "This is - this is - I guess this is what it takes?" And he's smiling viciously, and his hand against Jared is unbelievably warm. "We're going to hack the HooliCon wifi. We're going to put Pied Piper code onto all those douchebags' shitty fucking smartphones, and you're going to help. You won't make me do it without you. And after this weekend, you'll see how right I was." 

Jared actually feels it: the moment his willpower collapses. When the longing, desperate way Richard looks at him, when the _need_ that it conveys, feels too good to turn away from. When how badly he wants Richard proves strong enough to outweigh everything else. 

"Yes," he gasps, meaning to all of it. To anything, anything Richard cares to ask. "Yes," he repeats, nodding frantically. "Together. Richard. Yes." 

The reward for his compliance is as sweet as it is swift. Jared finds himself on his back, with Richard above him, kissing him, toothy and wet and unpracticed, and Richard's hand drifting down over Jared's body until he's haphazardly unbuttoning both of their pants. The phrase _all elbows_ arrives, uninvited, in Jared's brain, and he recalls Richard telling him this is what Liz said about him, as Richard shoves their pants down around their tangled, graceless legs to catch around each of their ankles, and then he is rutting against Jared, pressing their bony hips together with no sense of rhythm at all. 

If past experience is any indication, Jared thinks, he'll find bruises on his skin tomorrow. He'll think of them as gifts.

Richard leans down over Jared, elbows on either side, boxing him in. "What do you want," he asks. "Do you want my dick in your mouth now?" 

"Oh lordy," Jared gasps. "Yes." 

Richard climbs onto his knees, positioned around Jared's shoulders. He twists a hand in Jared's hair, wrenching it so hard it momentarily blinds him. 

"You have to - got to - fuck. You have to be part of this. Alright? And you can't tell anyone. Or you don't get to have it." Richard reaches down, takes his erection in hand, and brushes it, gently, against Jared's lips. Jared reaches out, futilely, with his eager tongue to taste it, just as Richard pulls away again, making him wait, making him desperate enough he'll do anything for it. "You have to support me - my - whatever decisions I make about Pied Piper. You do that - you be - be - _good_ and you do what I say and you - I - we - we can do this every night - every fucking - fucking - day - if you want to."

"Please," Jared wails, and he’s too far gone to care how much it sounds like begging.

And Richard pushes himself fully into Jared's mouth.

It is, Jared thinks, better than his wildest fantasies. Even his particularly vivid imagination couldn't conjure the richness of the experience: the heady, intoxicating scent and taste of Richard, the untrimmed, unruly hair against his skin, every little moan Jared forces out of him, the way he jerks and shudders, almost helpless, until his hips jut forward, and he slams into the back of Jared's throat.

Richard pulls out before he finishes. "Oh, you taste so _nice_ ," Jared whines, bereft, as Richard climbs down the length of his body, and he thrills at the way Richard blushes - softly, despite everything - just for him.

Their eyes meet, both panting, hungry, breathless. Richard rests on his haunches between Jared's outstretched legs. "Shit - Jared," he demands, "tell me - tell me what you want to - to - do next." 

Jared squirms, goes red-faced, can barely speak he's so ashamed of voicing his own desires. "Oh, Richard, Richard, tell me that you need me," he finally, in a small voice, requests. 

Richard pauses, weighing his options, as if he's not quite sure where to take this, and Jared actually sees it, the moment a lightbulb clicks on in his head.

"You helped set up for HooliCon," says Richard. "Didn't you? You probably wrote Gavin's keynote. Ha! I bet you - you - remember the - fucking - the convention center floorplans by heart."

"Oh, yes." Jared nods, and his assent is instantly rewarded:

"I need you," Richard says. "I need you, Jared. I can't fucking stand the thought of you with anyone else." 

"Oh god," Jared gasps. He doesn't care how true it is. His hips jerk up off the mattress, helplessly. 

"Do you want me to fuck you?" 

"My goodness, Richard. Yes." 

Richard nods. "Go get your laptop," he orders, "Book us a booth for HooliCon." 

And Jared, against all better judgement, desperate not to let this end, obeys.

"See," Richard says, waiting for him, after. He looks awfully, awfully pleased with himself. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Totally - normal. You know. Head of business development. Stuff." 

"Normal," Jared repeats, and he follows politely when Richard orders him, next, to prepare by fingering himself, first one and then two and then three long, slicked fingers, and when he's wet and open, he lets Richard position him on his hands and knees at the edge of the bed. Jared's eyelids flutter closed. He listens to the sound of Richard's hand moving - skin over skin - as he gets himself ready, slips a condom on, and pushes inside him, fast. 

"You won't question me again. No more second-guessing bullshit." 

"No more," Jared swears, but he supposes his promises must count for very little, because Richard grabs for the first piece of soft fabric his hands can reach - Jared's beloved old Pied Piper t-shirt - and "this should shut you up," he says, as he rolls it up and puts it between Jared's teeth.

"You're on my side now," Richard says.

"Mhmm." 

"You're part of this." 

"Mhmm." 

As skin slaps against skin. 

"Jesus christ, Jared. You tried to act so fucking pure and now look at you. Taking my dick like this. You're so fucking hungry for it. You need it. Fuck! You - you - my dirty little slut."

 _I am_ , thinks Jared, _I am_ , as he nearly short-circuits, so hot and humiliated, shuddering and gripping the sheets. He is someone he has been, in the past, and hoped he'd never have to be again. And it is all for Richard. And he hates himself for how easy it is.

"Did you do anything like this," Richard asks, "for Gavin? Did you - I mean - did you let him - let him - christ - did you let him fuck you like this?" 

_No_ , Jared thinks, as he shakes his head, wounded at the accusation, and ashamed of how reasonable it is. He would tell Richard, if he could speak around the fabric in his mouth: _no, no, I didn't. But I did plenty of things that felt close enough._ The hopeful start-ups they ripped off, the competitors they stymied, the routine lies they told the board, the advanced GPS tracking Gavin used on him, all the long, humiliating days without bathroom breaks. Gavin may not have penetrated Jared's body, but that didn't stop him from poisoning his soul.

What does it say about him, Jared wonders. The things he'll do - the person he's been - the person he _will be_ , now, for Richard. If they're meant to go down with the ship together, just how far is he willing to sink. What does it mean to love someone so much he thinks he'd kill or die for him. Put aside his morals, his own best interests. Keep quiet while he bears witness to his love's ever-accruing ethical decrepitude. Let him gag him and choke him and call him names and fuck him face-first into his thin, moth-bitten mattress. Let him have him absolutely any way he wants.

That night, when Richard is gone, Jared presses his face into the sheets and smells the places he's been, where the scent of each of them has collected and lingered. He touches his lips to it, and he rubs his erection against the mattress until he's face-down in the viscid, cooling evidence of his own pleasure and shame.

When Richard comes back to him tomorrow, Jared knows he'll do whatever he asks.


End file.
